Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Denmark and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Bang on a Can All-Stars to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Busters. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Yusef Lateef,
Animal Collective,
Warsaw,
Donald Byrd,
Alice Coltrane,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Outsiders,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ronnie Foster,
Ultra Naté,
The Star Department,
The Young Rascals,
Camouflage,
Barrington Levy,
T. Rex,
The Durutti Column,
Thee Headcoats,
Masters at Work,
These Immortal Souls,
Black Sheep,
R.M.O.,
Sun Ra,
Althea and Donna,
Crime,
Visage,
The Black Dice,
Oneida,
Soulsonic Force,
Wasted Youth,
Johnny Osbourne,
kango's stein massive,
The Martian,
Idris Muhammad,
Byron Stingily,
The Alarm Clocks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Man Eating Sloth,
CMW,
Rites of Spring,
The Electric Prunes,
Letta Mbulu,
Unrelated Segments,
The Buckinghams,
X-102,
Cluster,
Silicon Teens,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pantytec,
Connie Case,
the Slits,
X-Ray Spex,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Soft Machine,
ABC,
Todd Rundgren,
Moss Icon,
Radiohead,
The Knickerbockers,
Reagan Youth,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.